In the dark tunnels that ran beneath the city, a large figure walked slowly.
A streak of light from above cut through the gloom and revealed his bulk — naked, towering, and cruelly scarred. Three spherical blades were lodged in his dark skin, wicked moons embedded in muscle. It was the bald man from the subway.
He stopped. At his feet lay a body, sprawled and still. Bullet holes pocked the flesh and pierced the clothes. The man studied the corpse for a long moment, then, with a grunt of annoyance, hunched and lifted it onto his shoulder.
"How many years has it been, raze?" a voice called, carrying easily through the tunnel's echo.
Raze snapped alert. He scanned the darkness and caught a shadow stepping from it. "Who are you?" he asked, his voice gravel and low.
"I'm hurt that you don't remember your cellmate." The voice slid out of the black, amused. "Hm. It's been a long time, so I forgive you." A figure revealed himself, stepping into the pale strip of light.
"Remember me?" the newcomer asked.
"Ivanov… what are you doing here?" Raze asked, steadying the body on his shoulder as he spoke.
"Always the serious one, huh?" Ivanov grinned. "I was at the subway before. Why did you open fire in public? Aren't you afraid of attracting the attention of human authorities?"
Raze only glanced at him, then turned and walked off, the body balanced like a bundle. "Follow me," he said.
Ivanov hesitated a beat, then moved after him. The tunnel swallowed both of them. They threaded the maze of concrete and rebar until they reached a section that looked ruined and abandoned — broken slabs, buckled supports, water dripping steadily into shallow pools. People moved through the wreck as if it were ordinary, faces hardened and indifferent. A tall, furry thing padded by, glancing at the pair with apathetic curiosity. The lycans' stares fell away; interest dissipated like breath in cold air.
Raze led Ivanov into a makeshift chamber that served as a lab. Two men waited there; they watched Ivanov for a moment, then turned their attention to Raze. Without ceremony, he dropped the body on a metallic table.
"We were ambushed," Raze said, voice torn and blunt. "Death dealers. There were three."
"And the candidate?" one of the men asked, authoritative, his gaze flicking toward Ivanov.
"We lost them," Raze answered.
"I met Ivanov at the subway," Raze added. The authoritative man — Lucien — ignored Ivanov and snapped, "You lost him." Anger tightened his tone.
"Nice to see you too, Lucien. Always a pleasure," Ivanov replied, mocking civility curling his words.
Lucien's eyes narrowed. "What are you doing in my den?"
"Such an uncivilized way to make conversation." Ivanov's voice slid from familiar to aristocratic, posture and tone changing like a mask. "Last time I saw you, you were still a slave to the vampires. Look how one uprising has made you arrogant and rude." He bared his teeth, canines bright and threatening.
Lucien bared his in return; their standoff hummed with old violence.
"arrg"!!!
Raze's sharp grunt cut through the tension as the other man helped him. With a harsh pull, he wrenched the spherical blades from his flesh while he stood, grimacing but steady.
"Your actions expose us to the public," Ivanov snapped at Lucien. "Humans are most dangerous when they are frightened. They unite against an external threat. Do you want them to turn their weapons on us? Or are you so drunk on power you fail to see the danger?"
"You do not understand," Lucien said. "What we are after is the answer — the tool we need to win the wa—"
"To win your war," Ivanov cut in, "your obsession with revenge will lead to the demise of what you have spawned."
"I have no reason to explain my actions to you or your people," Lucien retorted, annoyance sharpening his words. "You chose your path; we chose ours. Stay out of this if you will not join."
"You seem to forget who you speak to, and who I represent," Ivanov replied, voice low and dangerous.
"You mean the monster you serve?" Lucien scoffed.
"Watch your tongue," Ivanov hissed.
"Tell me why you're here in this city, in my den — and if you have no answer, leave." Lucien's patience had thinned to a blade.
"What do you want with the person you hunt?" Ivanov asked.
"Will you help me win the war if I tell you?" Lucien countered.
Silence flooded the room, a cold, taut thing.
"Very well, gentlemen—until we meet again." Ivanov's aristocratic tone returned. He bowed with theatrical grace and walked out.
Lucien watched him go, annoyance and something like calculation in his eyes. After a moment he moved toward the rear exit. The other man in the lab adjusted his glasses and looked at Raze. "What was that about?" he asked.
"Nothing that should concern you," Raze said, voice flat.
With a sound like tearing fabric, he forced the last blade from his skin, blood smoking where metal left flesh. He stilled, breathing shallow.